Replica
by Thirteenth Syndrome
Summary: Life is cruel. Even when you don't exist. An angst-ridden, somewhat science fictional romance. Well, sort of romance... Many character struggles within the Organization as well. DemyxXZexion. Zemyx. Dexion. Other pairs mentioned.
1. Paroxysm

Okay, this is a Zemyx/Dexion fan fiction, but I'd say quite a bit of it is really about the nobodies' struggle to actually live. And Larxene... **Somewhat plot spoiler-** She will eventually digress into her actual personality. **-Somewhat plot spoiler... **Oh and the beginning, that's Zexion speaking. That's why it's so... complex? Not really, oh well. Lol. Enjoy.

* * *

Replica

December 30th, 2009. 6:37 P.M.

**Login 364. Identification code: 2652491519. Number six, registering in.**

_After reviewing all records of my study on the behavior of non-persons, I have discovered a… miscalculation. We are failing._

_The non-persons, or nobodies, are the imprints of a "whole" person, or one who possesses the figurative meaning of a heart. Nobodies' must subsist on the previous memories of their original form for continuous existence. Because of their dependencies on the past, the nobodies' behavior shadows the emotions of the original beings' memories. These emotions are triggered by similarities in situation. If the nobody's senses detect a familiar environment or interaction, his or her body relapses into a temporary sub consciousness, ultimately reenacting the memory without any type of variation. Being that the process leads to unstable living conditions, the nobody is often placed in extremely hazardous situations, typically fatal for the non-person._

_Recently, a cure for the mental disturbances has been revealed by the Superior. For years, in his original form, Xemnas experimented with the captured hearts of those lost in darkness. After Xemnas' change into a non-person, his tactics became more unethical with each failed attempt of resurrecting a "whole" person with tainted hearts. The method of returning a nobody to his or her original form, according to the Superior, requires the collaboration of a pure heart and contaminated heart. The collecting of contaminated hearts is swift and simplistic. No persons are directly harmed through the Organization by collecting the darkened hearts. The contaminated heart is released from a "whole" person's body and then recaptured for further examination in the laboratories._

_The pure heart is an exceedingly rare find in society. When a pure heart is located, the closest nobody unexplainably suffers sharp pains and body lesions immediately. After the nobody undergoes the sudden outbreak, the mind of the non-person is completely controlled by the previous memories, or in a sense, his or her original form. The mind is dominated for twenty-four hours, leaving the nobody in a harsh state of amnesia and aggression. The entirety of the nobody's personal memories is replaced by the original being's, therefore causing great stress on the body and mind of the non-person. Shortly after the twenty-four hours, the nobody collapses and reverts into some form of a coma. The non-person's coma may last up to ten years depending on the purity of the heart and the current stability of the nobody. In some drastic cases, the nobody can be revived from such conditions by surgically removing the original being's memories from the brain, although this leads to the non-person's incapability of ever being "whole" once more. Research is being conducted to halt the development of prolonged unconsciousness near pure hearts, but the testing is exceptionally dangerous and few times has it been successful._

_Xemnas has created an outlet for those whom wish to escape the mental disturbances and the possibility of a coma. Half of a contaminated heart is infused with the nobody's body, which in turn, generates a half-being. The half-being is able to feel as a "whole" person would, but because the half-being only possesses parts from the contaminated heart, he or she becomes unproductively violent and sadistic. Along with the shift in personality, the half-being is unable to become a "whole" person, because naturally, the body collects too much strain after surgery to be operated on a second time._

_Nobodies also have the option of daily medication through injection. The medicine postpones the arrival of memory relapses and gives better control to the nobody, whilst the original form's memories try to dictate the mind. Although the superior fabricated the treatment, it is increasingly difficult to accumulate due to a high demand and low supply. Some "whole" persons have manufactured their own home "remedies" to bribe the non-person's for immoderate amounts of munny. Characteristically, the remedies construct an intoxicated state and distract the nobody from outbreaks through a fixated "high." The use of home remedies deteriorates the body of a non-person exceedingly, but, strangely, the nobody feels the emotions of a "whole" person in a sort of hallucinogenic trance._

_Xemnas will not permit any person, or non-person, in the Organization to participate in such activities. He fears the intermingling of the home remedies and his experiments will cause a weakening in his research and… subjects._

**Login 364. Identification code: 2652491519. Number six, registering off.**

Number Six stared at the laptop's screen as it flashed erratically before blacking out. He honestly couldn't figure out how to fix the damn thing after a certain flower-obsessed specimen had tossed it at his most favored companion, Larxene, during an argument.

Zexion typically enjoyed the company of Larxene. She was pretty, headstrong, and dreadfully kind, in a sense, to him since their first meeting. He wasn't in love with her. No, Zexion considered her the only nobody he could tolerate. He couldn't comprehend what the sentiments of love were nor did he care to understand them. Number Six was, undoubtedly, closer to experiencing the emotions of hostility. Usually calm and a tad bit melancholy, he could grasp a shadow of what hatred was. For Zexion, handling the _other _Organization's members required a different sort of tolerance.

Zexion and Marluxia had scarcely spoken seven words to each other in the confining walls of Castle Oblivion. Their conversations lasted for about five seconds and often included the subject of whether Marluxia would discontinue vandalizing books in the library, or if Zexion would stop being such a "tight-ass mother fucker." The two seemed destined to quarrel from their genetics alone. Number Six was remarkably short (five feet and five inches) and possessed a head of slate-colored droopy hair. Number Eleven towered over Six (six feet and three inches) with elongated, spiked salmon-colored hair. The pair just did not mesh.

Only Larxene had managed to keep the two of them from snapping each other's necks at every encounter. Searching for a distraction from the fighting, Number Twelve always laughed and smiled near them. She couldn't really explain why she did it ,except for that it was interesting to see people's reactions when she did. And thankfully, the gentle raise of her lips was enough to keep Number Six vaguely intrigued and Number Eleven vastly entertained. No one could "hate" her.

---

"Hey Zexion!" the blonde bellowed from across the hall.

Startled, Number Six whipped around with several heavy books and documentations in his hands, only to ram into some unsuspecting victim.

"Oh. Um. I'm sorry, Number Six. I didn't- here," stuttered a small blonde boy as he hastily gathered up papers. Well, hell, he would have been small, if Zexion wasn't only a couple inches taller than the boy and far beyond the age of fifteen. Number Six was caught up in his thoughts, until he heard a harsh thud and viewed several more of his papers "riding the wind" with his peripheral vision.

"How's it going down there, Roxas?" the crimson haired nobody laughed while pressing his victim further into the glass floors. Axel's laughter sent Roxas into a squirming frenzy. Entering assault mode, Larxene popped in front of both of them and started snickering as well. Roxas noticed the presence of another and began flailing his arms up and down like an eighty-year-old woman in a closet full of giddy Chippendale's employees. Axel burst into hysterics, and the female nobody wasn't far behind before-

"Enough. Number Eight, release him and attend to your duties. Number Thirteen, stand up and do not waste time on retrieving the documents. I'm perfectly capable of such tasks. Number Twelve, was there something you needed?"

"Sheesh. We were just screwing around. What's your problem?" the redhead huffed while raising the newly petrified Roxas up by his hood.

"I am not in need of repair. Simply go back to your responsibilities. You are wasting time."

"We have all the time in the world. We don't age."

"Despite our advantages in age, we _do not _have 'all the time in the world.' And there is certainly no time for your ludicrous behavior. Return to the tasks assigned to you."

"You need to laugh a little more, Zexy."

Zexion inwardly grimaced from the nickname but continued to instruct his subordinates with the same low, monotonous tone as before.

"Laughter is useless. We are nobodies-"

"And what the hell would you know about laughter?" Axel barked, " Laughter may be 'useless' in your eyes, but I can feel it."

"It is irrational to act out what you know none of us possess-"

"Don't tell me we can't feel. You may be the one fucked up piece of worthless shit that can't, and I believe it, but we can. I swear, you are so damn meaningle-"

Larxene stopped his sentence with the swift and gentle placement of her hand over his lips. Axel stared at her in an indifferent stupor for a moment, closed his mouth, and walked away.

Roxas tried to keep collecting the papers, but Larxene patted him with her shoe to leave. He stalked off slowly, and eventually, broke into a run after Axel down the hallway.

"Zexion."

"…"

"Hey, talk to me."

"…"

"Zexion…"

"Hmm…"

"I'm sorry about what Axel said. He really doesn't mean it as harshly as he says it. Zexion. He's just unhappy about being a nobody, and he kind of feels- Oh. Maybe, maybe you should try a new tactic for getting along with your coworkers."

"Hm."

"Just don't act like a nobody-"

"We are nobodies. No one should pretend to act as a 'whole' being. We do not contain such emotions."

"But we may never be 'whole.' We all know that. You should realize that too."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Zexion…"

"…"

"Fine."

"…"

"Give me a hand will you? Ugh. Never mind. I swear you are so useless sometimes." Larxene joked.

"…"

"Zexion." She was getting exhausted of saying Six's name so much in one day.

"…"

"Zexion, I'm talking to you!"

Number twelve quickly grabbed the last of the papers before glancing upward at her uncommunicative comrade. She stepped back slightly. Zexion was standing erectly, visible eye wide open. He staggered forward a little and suddenly collapsed onto the glass.

"Zexion!"

The nobody started thrashing against the glass violently. Specks of glass crunched and scraped across Zexion's face, whereas many of them were leaving gentle streams of blood to run across his skin. What was more was that Larxene couldn't carry or transport Zexion through a portal because of a recent experiment that rendered the arms essentially useless. She knew that if she left him he could do worse things to himself, so she decided to scream. A "whole" being's yelp cannot began to compare to that of a nobody's. The nobody's cry is thunderous and wailing. Because a heart is absent from the non-being, the body uses its available resources to replicate what it should feel but cannot. And Larxene's screams were some of the worst.

"HELP! ZEXION IS…! PLEASE, HELP! HELP! SOMEONE! ANYONE! ZEXIO-"

Larxene's shrieks were cut off by the impulsive grip of a hand. She struggled, watching Six's eyes squeeze tighter with his constricting hand. She peered into his face; pupils dilated, forehead clenched, and even a slight leer had graced his features. She clawed at her throat, waiting for the harnessed air to come. Larxene paled. Face softening, she looked at the unpredictably strong nobody before her. Zexion tightened his hand, but he pulled closer, revealing terrified eyes. It'd stop. She knew it would. He would.

Eyes fading, Larxene dropped her struggling arms and drooped slightly in his grip.

* * *

_Boom. _

Number Six fell to the ground, writhing. His body convulsed in pain, while his mind broke into the greatest of frays. Chest heaving higher and faster, Zexion snapped, eyes darted from light to black. _Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop!_

He shot up, wavering slightly from an acute pain on the left side of his forehead. Gaze examining the room, his eyes landed on a black puddle lying far from him. Cerise hair separated itself as part of the spill, while a fringe of blonde hair was lifted off the ground. Zexion crawled over to the pair. His hand reached up, searching for his companion. His friend.

"GET- THE FUCK… AWAY FROM H-HER!" wheezed the standing figure.

"Marluxia, please!" Six cried.

The nobody replied with the sudden thrust of a knee. Zexion crashed backward, head plummeting into a nearby wall. He lurched, falling into the hallway. A red puddle lying under him.

"Please, help."


	2. Vapor

Sorry if it's too short. Thanks for reading. :)

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_Light. A fading dream awakened by darkness. The fragments of a symphony lost._

The room, curtained by black, barren. Grey walls paled the surroundings, while a high ceiling pressed the air down. An isolated window hid behind two swollen, strips of cloth. Heavy bolts nailed an iron wrought bed frame to the floor. A nobody stirred quietly, enduring the paralytic chains of sleep with everything but ease. The sheets were so _damn_ thin. Zexion quivered. Eyes sliding open, he breathed out, feeling the warm condensation exit slowly. His body squirmed, and while he tried to lift himself, a throbbing ache ghosted over his left side.

"Agh," Zexion breathed before retreating to the mattress. He had had enough. Not only was his body irrevocably sore, but his mind had traveled back to…

"Larxene," Six whispered, watching the memory replay over, and over, and over. But the remembrance was hazy, like decaying film, and disallowed clarity. What was more was that Zexion only recalled Larxene's withered body. How her arms and legs hung like wet rags. Her body, an untouched marionette doll, was still and silent, while her face fell back, exposing sagging eyes and a slack mouth. And that man. How would Number Six face such a terror? He could handle his own security well, but the nobody did not fight.

"It's not like I'm a pacifist."

"You most certainly are not. But if you'd like to convert, redemption is always an option."

Zexion's eyes wavered in the direction of the voice. He struggled to move his body as well, but immediately retired back into his original position.

"Who is this?"

"I've heard that it's easier for nobodies to break the barrier to Paradise than it is for regular people. It's like this: God favors the weak. I mean, I'm not a fan of charity, but I suppose it may be some sort of compensation for the world favoring the _whole_."

"What would you know of divine favoritism?"

"… I am a god."

"Ridiculous."

"But I am!"

"Prove it."

Zexion's thoughts fidgeted. He had rarely spoken about anything, other than work, to others in the Organization, let alone challenge someone to justify the concoctions of a traveling mind.

"Whoa. That was unexpected."

"What do you-?"

"One year."

"…"

"One year, and I will prove that I am a god."

"That is nothing but a pipe dream."

"Watch it unwind, my friend."

_Friend. _Zexion had read thousands upon thousands of dictionaries and thesauruses, looking for the 'correct' definition of the word. Each time, he looked over a phrase, individually defined each term in the phrase, and then juxtaposed all the terms together. He just couldn't grasp it. A nobody just could not grasp it.

"You-"

The voice was gone. Zexion sighed. The room even seemed to be chilling him now. He shut his eyes, listening to the voice. Again and again.

He unsealed his eyes, when his door creaked open.

"Hello?" Zexion murmured. No response. Whoever it was had slid something through the crack and dashed away, before he had mustered the strength to turn towards the door. Slowly, Six wrenched his body up. Strange. He wasn't able to before. Perhaps, the voice was a good omen. A savior. But not a god. He was even able to shift his legs off the bed. Now the hard part.

Zexion grasped the sheets on each side of him and firmly lifted himself up. He wobbled, nearly falling into the cold tile. Pressing a hand against the wall, he steadied himself and worked towards the door. Leaning down was tear worthy, but he pushed through the pain and grabbed the package. Clawing at he _Pull Here_ strip, his hands found--

"A laptop?" And it was definitely not his. A sleek, midnight blue outer casing was covered in neatly placed, nearly translucent black spirals. Zexion pried the top up and stared at the keyboard. Everything was a slightly lighter blue, as was the keyboard. The inner workings of the computer could be seen, and the screen… The screen was just magnificent. Six scoffed. He doubted that the actual functioning capability of the was anything more than below average. Aesthetically pleasing things rarely ever were. But in this case, Zexion's theory was wrong. The moment the screen flashed to life, the nobody felt like the computer didn't even have a screen. It was a portal, so clear and fast, that tricked his eyes. He couldn't decipher between what was reality and just pixels. Zexion frowned. He surfed across the computer's files, realizing they were his own.

"Who transferred my… data?"

After several minutes of figuring, his face softened.

"What… How much was this?"

Frown.

From the beautiful cover to the elaborate, speedy, and transparent characteristics, not to mention the unholy amount of memory, a terabyte to be exact, of the laptop, he was baffled. It had to be at least…

"Five hundred thousand munny…"

Six shook. Gently placing the new computer on his bed, he scuffled towards the door, no longer wincing from the pain. Pushing himself out of the room, he found himself on the 4th floor of their headquarters. The infirmary. There were fifteen doors in the nauseatingly long hallway. One door led to a balcony, another led to the restroom. The other thirteen doors belonged to the Organization members. Or really each door led to a room specifically for a member. Zexion stared at the intricately carved _6_ on his door. No member actually owned their infirmary room. The Superior owned every thing in headquarters. And he created all the rules. Organization members were not permitted to enter their infirmary room, unless instructed to. Entering any other member's space was strictly prohibited. And the Superior _never_ instructed one to enter another's area.

Zexion carried himself towards the restroom. The hallway was dim, lit by fluorescent blue lighting, making Six's journey even more perilous. Finally, he reached the door reading _Lavatory_ and swung it open.

"Hey there. _**Zexion**._"

Cerise hair. An icy voice joined with bloody coral eyes. Long figure. Black coat. A scythe?

"Marluxia--"

* * *

Haha. I promise I will stop ending these chapters with Zexion saying "Marlooooosha!"


	3. Heat

Alright... So. I do plan on finishing all two of my stories. It's just taking... Forever. Oh... And I'll probably be updating again. Tonight. Lolf.

The visual in this kind of... sickens me.

_Love scent. Demonic and fleeting, an essence, a child, birthed by hatred._

"Long time, no see, _Zexion._"

The tall nobody leaned against the farthest wall. Except for a few strands of bright hair, his cloak sheltered him from the ashy lighting of the bathroom. Arms crossed, Marluxia flicked his head up, red eyes glinting. Beneath the nobody was a scythe, blade abnormally sporting a rusty hue. Number Six listened to the door shut behind him. Zexion's body churned with hot blood, as he subconsciously clutched his side. Watching his subordinate, Zexion walked to one of the metal sinks. Six grimaced. The air was rotten and heavy near _him_. Like blood. Blood. Zexion turned his head to examine the nobody. The man… He looked absolutely rabid.

"I'm sure."

Six grasped the faucet handle, turning it slowly to the left. Cold water flowed out at first, eventually, heating up.

"How've you been? Being locked away in the infirmary and all must be a truly horrendous experience for you, is it not?"

The water furthered its temperature, turning from warm to steaming. Marluxia stepped forward. Feet crunching across the floor, Eleven crossed over his scythe and busied himself with the sink on the right of Zexion's.

"I suppose it is."

"Are you… comfortable at the very least? I would be in utter agony knowing that someone of such a high caliber would be in any sort of discomfort."

Steam leaked into the small bathroom. Six squinted, configuring the possible outcomes of Marluxia's sudden curiosity over his wellbeing.

"..."

"Not going to answer me?"

Zexion rotated his body towards the man. Marluxia's hood was off, giving a free view of his face. Zexion stepped back.

"What do you want?"

Eleven's lips shuddered. Arms falling to his side, he replicated Zexion. Marluxia stepped forward.

"It's impolite to avoid my question-"

"Answer me."

Marluxia smiled. Teeth glowing a pearly white. Eyes glowing a scarlet red.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Answer m-"

A slick, gloved fist crashed into Zexion's chest. The fist morphed into a hand, slender and masculine, that threw Six on top of the sink and into the mirror behind it. Boiling water seeped into Zexion's white infirmary gown. Caging away the aftershock urges to scream, Six bit his bottom lip, feeling the liquid scald and rip his skin apart.

"It's not always about you, bitch. Listen. Now, you listen good. You need to learn some fucking manners before you ask me another question."

Six gasped. Zexion's skin blared silently, as he squirmed for freedom from Marluxia's grip.

"I-"

Once again, the hand took the form of a fist. Plowing into Zexion's ribcage, Marluxia stopped after two hits. The satisfying _crack_ was heard. Tears pumped out of the sides of Zexion's eyes. Energy expended, his eyes began to waver till he saw nothing.

"Holy shit, you must be deaf. Not everything is about you. In fact, nothing is! So shut your fucking mouth and listen to what I've got to say! Not you! You wanna know what I want? Huh? Open your fucking eyes!"

Zexion pressed his eyelids up. Bloodshot eyes met their match, as Six stared into what would undoubtedly be his last memories.

"…"

"_I want my fucking life back."_

Zexion felt his body smash into the tile below. Footsteps strode from his withered body, gliding out the door. The water began to leak onto the floor, surrounding the nobody in burning wetness. No longer able to move any part of his body, Zexion lied in the reddening puddle. Burgundy streams lurked from his lip and side to intermingle with the fluid. His eyes fell. Zexion's final moment. A moment of three things: Metal, skin, and blood.

Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
